anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


Leave a comment

TuesDayNewsDay Vol.2 Issue 17, October 30 Caution: Trigger Warning, references to sexual violence

TuesDayNewsDay Vol.2 Issue 17, October 30th – CAUTION: Trigger Warning – this newsletter contains triggering sexual violence references. Please take care.

Dedication: Today’s issue is dedicated to my therapist Karen. Today, while going through what came up in therapy, I realized I would drive to the place, where in October of 1990, I was first molested. I was seven years old. I decided I would drive there, sit on the ground and take a photo. I would also take something of the earth to work with this healing. As the idea came to me, a light bulb exploded in my head. Karen said, “Anita, don’t take your wounded little girl there without your whole adult self holding her, seeing her, and telling her that you are there for her no matter what. You are her nurturing parent now, hold her in your arms.”

I pulled my car into the driveway for the first time ever on my way home from therapy, realizing I have never driven into that driveway before in my life.

This spot, which I have to drive by every time I go to my grandparents’ house, is also a block from where my mother still lives with the pedophile step-father just across the railroad tracks. When I say this healing is a daily, a moment to moment process, I mean it. Literally facing those places every day has wrecked havoc on my insides – but I am resilient and strong, vulnerable and honest with myself. The place is a vacant lot in a trailer park on Pomeroy Street in Graham, where my home used to sit. Now it’s an empty, dirty space with an overgrown concrete platform over which there was a carport. Under that porch, I remember having to take all of our stuffed animals outside to be thrown away because there was such a terrible flea infestation. I remember sneaking up late at night after everyone was asleep, turning on the television to watch Alfred Hitchcock and the Twilight Zone, my face about an inch from the screen, ever wary of any sounds coming from my mother’s end of the trailer lest I get caught.

Vividly, I remember the game we were playing that night in October. My baby sister, a developmentally disabled boy named Jason, and his sister Tasha and I were playing charades. Jason and Tasha were the teenage children of my mother’s red-headed boyfriend. We played in teams and it was decided we would go into the closet to decide what animal or character we would pretend to be. I was seven years old, my sister was 2. I was on Jason’s team. Jason was sixteen. (Typing this I can feel my heart racing and the old familiar anxiety aching in my chest and shoulders, my left eye and cheek twitching.). When we went into that closet and Jason molested me, I was too afraid to move, too afraid to scream, too afraid to fight, too afraid to do anything at all except to freeze. So, I froze. I could feel his icy cold, trembling hands on me. To this day I can still feel the darkness of that closet, the walls closing in around me. When we came out of that closet, I was sick. I don’t remember anything else. I don’t remember the game, nothing. I remember after they left that night, I told my mother what happened. She said to me, “Honey, if it happens again, let me know.”

Those words etched endless caves into the crevices of my heart. Those words are the haunting. Those words represent the moment I knew I was on my own. With no one else to turn to, my grandparents were gone to Disneyland at the time, I was completely alone. I prayed and prayed and heard nothing. Those words mark the day when I, as a seven year old, realized that god didn’t exist and that I wasn’t worth saving. Those words created children’s tears. They cannot be undone, and of course, it happened again.

Despite those memories buried deep in endless caves and my mother within shouting distance, I went. It was my nurturing, accepting, loving, and whole adult self who sat on that ground. I felt the cold, wet grass and soil underneath me. I looked at the trailers to the right and left of me. My phone was propped on the very metal bracket that once held that trailer to the ground. I snapped a shot of me sitting on that sacred ground. It took less than a minute. Leaving, I searched for a four-leaf clover in the tiny patch of yard, but found none. Instead, now a big green black walnut from that place is with me. I plan to do some ritual with that walnut. It tried to escape twice from me before walking up my back-porch steps in Saxapahaw. Something inside told me not to bring it inside my house, so I left it on the back patio table. It is not clear what kind of ritual will come about, but it is sure to be a powerful one of releasing the physical ghosts of that moment. It will be one of forgiving my mother for not knowing or realizing what she was doing. It will be a process of exorcising the grief and trauma which has been sitting in my bones and blood, blooming into the person you see today. Today is all I have.

Quote: Choice is all we get, change is all that’s real.

Song: Silence is the song today folks, listen to your heart beat. – my Tuesday video song series is available here: TuesDay Song Series Video on Facebook

Dear Humans,

Today’s post wasn’t meant to be this way. The events of today were not planned, but have made a mark. The words of my song, Darlene, record this event in a lyrical, symbolic sort of way. Being an artist is a privilege because it lets us put words and visions to feelings and thoughts. We are able to somehow transform our feelings into a universal language others can share. Today with Karen, I admitted to trying to let go of my fears: people won’t like my arts and I’m not good enough to walk in the footsteps of my idols. Slowly and purposefully, she said, “Let’s transform that. You are working on your language, so let’s start here.” So after thinking, my mouth said, “I am letting go of my concern for people not liking my art or me as a person.” I do not need validation of others to justify my existence. This self-work is Sacred. I feed on it; it makes me feel more and more alive and free every day to uncover and unleash the demons. Turns out, they aren’t demons at all. They are one scared, frozen little girl, stepping into who she is destined to be, not solely a victim of her circumstance. I looked Karen in the eyes today and spoke my gratitude for her being here with me this last year and a half of journeying, visioning and healing. It was the first time I’d ever asked to hold hands with anyone. With our feet on the floor, we grounded, I closed my eyes and saw little Anita sitting on my right knee. There Karen prepared me to go sit on that patch of grass, which someday, I will drive by without flinching. I will drive by proud to have been seated there.

Love, ALM


Leave a comment

TuesDayNewsDay Vol.2 Issue 15, October 8

Today’s weekly song series is up! Check it out here: https://www.facebook.com/anitalorrainemusic/videos/535090620390659/

Dedication: This week is dedicated to Sandie Kennedy. She introduced me to Tarot when I was sixteen or seventeen and I could not be more grateful. For years I was ashamed of my mystical frou frou leanings. Growing up in a Southern Baptist church by non-woo humans certainly never leant itself to any out of the ordinary behavior (of which I was constantly involved) or witchy shit of any kind. Sandie was the first adult I ever met who was all up in the woo and made no bones about it. No apologies ever about who she was or in what she believed. I truly needed a woman like that in my life without a dogma, without an agenda. On top of that she loved motorcycles and had some amazing children all of whom I love to this day. Of course her own children may say of her what they want; I contend that she was one of the first women in my life who I looked up to for being unapologetically who she is. Go Sandie. Thank you for being. Period.

Quote: On Friendship: “…when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.” Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet speaking on the sacred topic of friendship. Today, I was reminded of how grateful I am to be able to count on my fingers and toes all the humans I love dearly, yet do not see very often. To those friends time cannot touch. Those friends with whom no distance can divide the love. There are many of you, for I have lived a privileged life of travel and adventure. You are all treasured and measureless in your meaning to me in this world.

Song: Lizzo: Soulmate – for those of us out here in the singles world, there are days when solitude can be overwhelming. Lizzo makes that fizzle away into the fire that is her music. The emblazoned words, “and I gotta testify, I get flowers every Sunday, I’mma marry me one day… cause I’m my own soulmate, I know how to love me, I know that I’m always gonna hold me down… look up in the mirror like ‘damn she the one!’” FYI, don’t listen to this around kids unless your kids cuss as much as I do… Lizzo does not give a f***. https://youtu.be/cORNQkOdYw0 I am learning to be my own soulmate, for I cannot give of myself if I am not whole. We gotta do our own work. Do the work! Soul work! (I swear, I will say this to everyone, EVERYONE needs therapy. Everyone needs someone with whom to talk about your inner junk. We ALL have it and this culture does not teach us how to recognize our issues, much less DEAL with them in healthy ways.) Thanks Lizzo for being a bit of extravagant therapy on the way to work every other day. Thank you Emily Miller for hooking me UP.

Dear Humans, I have another quote to share with you. It’s a quote that rushed right out of my mouth when I was speaking with a dear friend in Florida this week. “To be a rebel is to ask for help.” (In America.). We were discussing how hard it is to ask for help and I added that it is sometimes hard even to know what you need, much less be able to ask for help with whatever it is! We all struggle with inner demons, whether we recognize them or pay attention closely enough with a mirror to examine from where they originate is a “whole ‘nuther story!”

There’s so much going on right now that I feel I’m on a roller coaster that hasn’t stopped. Thing is, it’s slowing down, I can feel it. I have antidotes, potions, remedies, medicine and restorative practices to slow down my heart rate and see things from a more objective perspective. There is a list of creative endeavors which give me great peace and excitement upcoming: Poetry Book, Moore On That podcast, and Surrendering to the Sacred album!

Without any upcoming shows, I don’t have a boatload of rehearsals or practice. I have been playing and singing, but only to myself (and to you people on Tuesdays!). It’s been quite nice! I have gone to a few shows, had some lovely dinners with friends, begun reading new books, worked on sewing projects, sold my bed and mattress, working on selling my vintage dresser and nightstand set, brought down my fall accoutrements and sweaters are EVERYWHERE. My newest books are called “Well-Read Black Girl” by Glory Edim, “Deeper Dating” by Ken Page, and the “Autobiography of my Mother” by Jamaica Kincaid. Tea at night and going to bed early are becoming habitual. I’m learning how to pray, how to incorporate it into my habits… this morning was filled with ritual and intention for the rest of the month of October. I’m struggling with addictions and habitual behaviors which are dictated by shame and guilt cycles. It is perplexing to try to find solutions to those cycles, but surely they exist. Bless all of you who read this and care, it means a great deal to me. I’m stepping down to rest a bit and to more carefully juggle my wild side with my disciplined self. This Summer was filled with work beyond my wildest dreams, madness which has helped me step closer to fulfilling goals of creating an album and living my life authentically and radical honesty and assertiveness. Cheers! Here’s to the Autumn of abundance and harvest. Let’s celebrate. (Minus the booze, thanks.)

This week in photos:

Enjoying sleeves, wool hats, vests, scarves, and my Paw Paw’s 83 Mazda pickup transporting beds across town. Damn I’m sleeping like a rock on my own mattress. *Thankful*
This was my spread this morning. 1. Where to dig deeper (3 of cups) 2. Where to rest (9 of pentacles) and 3. What will transform with this balance? (The Hierophant)
Still unpacking this set. It’s for focusing on the month of October.
This cute greenie was outside the Eddy last Friday night.
Although I don’t consider myself an alcoholic, this book on shame was so intense that I had to put it down. I haven’t yet picked it up again.
Some of my most top played songs of late.


Leave a comment

Soul Mirrors

I never knew I’d ever know

A soul who shone like the sun on fresh snow

A sparkle, some darkness, some light,

a shimmer in the eye of a mother doe

~

Memories of you I’ve always known

Don’t know what to make of this newborn revelation

Down inside it shakes a growing infatuation

Haunts of a recognition, a relation, a soul reflection and negotiation

~

I want to see you

my heart’s intuition

Don’t want to miss you

my dreams’ imagination

~

My old-time fears from being here before

Caution to stay back, don’t reveal much more

It’s been in my nature to hide behind castle walls

Scared you’ll love me

then I’ll not know what to do at all…

#AlAnon #SoulMates #Poetry #Magic #Memories


Leave a comment

4 days late, remembering a buddha in the wind and sunshine

I am forgiven, myself, forgiving myself

For some things take longer to accomplish than the patience within me allows

My judgement is suspended for I said I’d write a poem a day.

The last one was 2 days ago and I refuse to feel remorse.

A while ago I would have riddled myself with guilt and poured on feelings of inadequacy,

but because I’ve given myself room to be imperfect,

my imperfections feel more right, they are okay, they make me smile versus frown.

My dreams realized may be just the life I live – in the moments where I forgive.

IMG_0171

Thank you Dearest Bill for always reminding me of Coyote magic and the power of counting to 10, the strength in being what is, the love in living love and acceptance of the day as it passes and becomes another day.  I have thought of you so much in the past few days and I feel as if your passing was what was supposed to happen and that you were smiling all the way into the next form you’ve taken, whatever that is.  Your energy lives on in so many people as the healer and the figure of inspiration.  I miss you today and send your spirit my thanks and blessings.